In Honour's Shadow
by 90TheGeneral09
Summary: Set during and shortly after the events of Season 6: Episode 22 "The Long Blue Line" and Episode 23 "Into the Blue". Detective Lilly Rush goes to Norfolk, VA to question another member of the Pennsylvania Military Institute Class of 2005. The former Cadet Sergeant Major of 2nd Battalion isn't at all expecting to hear Kate Butler did not quit PMI like he and his classmates believed.
1. Chapter 1- Alex Cressner

**Chapter I- Alex Cressner**

* * *

The _USS John T. Hughes _was named for a hard-driving, cantankerous son of a bitch, but also for an outstanding officer who demanded nothing short of the best from his men. It was more than a little appropriate, then, that her captain, as of April 2009, was much the same way. Commander George Burke was a tall man with piercing green eyes and short brown-black hair, well within Navy standards. He had brought his ship into her home port at Norfolk, Virginia less than a week before Detective Lilly Rush came aboard, looking to speak with one of Burke's officers.

Lieutenant Alex Cressner was a shorter man than the captain, an average five-eleven to Burke's six-two. The senior gunnery officer onboard the _John Hughes_, Cressner had seen a steady rise in rank since his graduation from the Pennsylvania Military Institute in 2005. As he came down the gangplank to meet Detective Rush, his gray eyes surveyed her warily. He was much more solemn than most men of his age, and Rush, knowing a thing or two about the appearance of prominent U.S. Armed Forces commendations, was more than a little impressed to see a Silver Star among the ribbons Cressner wore in his khaki uniform.

Though he might have surveyed her cautiously, Cressner was every inch the iconic PMI gentleman. His handsome features forming into a polite smile under his khaki officer's hat, Cressner held out a hand. "You must be the reason skipper just told me to get my ass ashore on the double," Cressner said, essaying a small joke. "Lieutenant Alex Cressner, United States Navy."

Rush shook the young officer's hand. "Detective Lilly Rush, Pennsylvania State Police."

Cressner laughed a little. "You're a long way from home, Detective. A Navy base in Virginia is out of your jurisdiction for two good reasons." Cressner considered. "But I bet there's a reason you're here, ma'am, so I'm listening."

The Navy officer was the picture of polite attentiveness, but Rush could tell he was nervous. He was trying to figure out why the hell the PSP was here, and how soon she was gonna leave. Rush, more than competent at her job, knew that reaction was common among people. Nobody expected a visit from the Pennsylvania State Police. That nervousness was something too many amateur cops and detectives jumped on, sure it was an indication of guilt. Sometimes, though, the reason people _looked_ nervous was _because_ they were nervous, and cops who chased after guys who hadn't done anything but look guilty ended up wasting a lot of time.

But which ones were which? Who was hiding something and who was just nervous?

Lilly Rush wished there was a way to know. It would have made police work, especially on a detective's level, much easier.

Rush didn't waste any time. She went straight ahead.

"Do you remember Kate Butler, Lieutenant?"

Whatever he'd been imagining this detective had wanted, Cressner clearly hadn't thought of that. His polite attentiveness- and his unease- came crashing down in an instant. But he recovered himself quickly, and said, "Yes, I do. I don't think I could forget, being that she was the first female ever to walk into PMI."

Rush remembered there'd been two female applicants accepted for the fall of 2004; she said as much to Cressner. The lieutenant just sneered, an instinctive response that reminded Rush of another part of her file on the Kate Butler case; Alex Cressner had been Cadet Sergeant Major of 2nd Battalion, the one to which Kate Butler had been assigned, in the fall of 2004. In an instant he was back at PMI again, dressed in his spotless dress grays and weeding out the weak and unfit knobs in his battalion with neither passion nor prejudice. In just a moment's time, Alex Cressner showed just how much he despised the weakness that made people quit.

Cressner corrected his first answer, saying, "First female to walk into PMI and last more than a _week_."

Feeling a little irked by Cressner's sneer- there was a good chance that was for the idea of female cadets at PMI, period, an attitude common among alumni from the college's all-male days- Rush decided to ask a question that might bring Cressner's views on it to light.

"Have you had any female higher-ups in the Navy, Cressner?" Rush asked.

"A few." Cressner's response gave nothing away.

"Has that bothered you?"

Seeing what she was getting at, Cressner eyed the blonde detective a little coldly. "I know you looked at my ribbons as I came down the gangplank, Detective."

"The Navy told me you were decorated highly for your service in the last war," Rush said, her response nonchalant. It was true; she'd already had the commander of Cressner's destroyer squadron provide her with all the relevant details of Cressner's service record. He'd been awarded the Silver Star for "conspicuous heroism and gallantry in combat operations" during a shootout with a battle group of Russian Democratic Union warships in the Baltic Sea. The Russo-Baltics War, and the Second Russian Civil War that was so closely connected to it, had produced many combat veterans who had gone home with a chest-full of medals… not all of them alive. The Pennsylvania Military Institute had lost twenty-five graduates in the war, out of over two hundred who served in the conflict- and all of them were volunteers.

Lieutenant Cressner had earned his rank and his Silver Star for being the kind of officer who would rather go down shooting the guns himself than ever abandon ship willingly. Cressner's squadron commander had mentioned, while showing Rush Cressner's file, that the Chief Petty Officer under Cressner had needed to knock Cressner out with a fire extinguisher and drag him off the fast-sinking _USS Bunker Hill_. The officer had insisted on carrying on the fight with a few volunteers, shooting what few still-working guns the _Bunker Hill_ had after dismissing the rest of his gunners. Alex Cressner was known for being brave, sometimes to the point where you could clearly see he had more guts than sense. But he also was very fair, and had no black marks in his record for disrespecting superiors, male or female.

Cressner's stare turned a little colder, though, when he continued, "I bet the Navy didn't tell you _one_ thing."

Deciding to let Cressner to the talking on this one- Rush knew she'd learn more that way- Lilly Rush said, "What's that?" _Go ahead_, she thought, _draw him out. See what he says_.

"Captain Susan Gray got my brother out of a POW camp."

Rush nodded. "Operation Eager Smoke; she got the Medal of Honor for that. First female to receive it in history."

Cressner also nodded, in turn. "Then I imagine you've read all about how Captain Gray stormed that Russian POW camp all on her own, took out a whole platoon of guards, got shot _nine times_ and _still_ managed to lead my brother and fifty other men to get picked up five miles away."

Again, Lilly Rush nodded. She'd heard about Captain- now Major- Susan Gray and her extraordinary service in the Russo-Baltics War. Anybody who followed that war and its heroes at all most certainly had.

Sighing a little, Cressner composed himself. "Kate Butler didn't have one upperclassman who was happy to see her, Detective Rush. Not one. I'm not gonna say I wasn't among them. But Susan Gray went through the Long Gray Line down South once. She got my brother out of that camp, and she got him out alive. If I was prejudiced against a woman in uniform once, I'm not anymore."

Briefly, a silence passed between the detective and the naval officer. Cressner looked at Rush, now curious and a little uncomfortable. "Just why _are_ you here, Detective Rush? I know you didn't pull me off my ship just to ask me about a dropout knob and how I fought in some war."

Rush nodded; it was time to let Cressner know just what was up. His reaction to that might prove telling.

"Kate Butler came back, Lieutenant Cressner."

Cressner shook his head, crossing his arms and smirking a little. "Not to PMI, she didn't. She dropped out and ran off just like I figured she would."

Rush took out a photograph from the crime scene in Philadelphia; where the PMI footlocker with a girl's skeleton in it had been found by a graveyard caretaker doing maintenance and restructuring of the gravesites. She held it out to Cressner, and as he looked down at it, Rush said, "She came back, Lieutenant. I meant what I said."

Cressner stared at the photo in shock; either this was the first time he'd heard of this… or he was doing a good job of acting like it.

"Oh, my God." For a full minute and a half, that was all Cressner managed to say.

Cressner suddenly turned away, bracing himself against the nearby railing. He held up a hand to his eyes, and for a minute had difficulty speaking. Rush just watched, and waited. She wasn't in any great hurry.

Finally, the brown-blonde-haired officer said, "C-can we go somewhere besides this damn dock to talk about this? I don't feel comfortable here anymore."

Abruptly, he turned back to the blonde detective, his eyes hard and suspicious. "Wait- do you think I had something to do with this? You think _I_ killed that girl?"

"I didn't say that," Rush said. "Maybe you can give us a better idea of who did."

Cressner shook his head. "Fine. Fine, let's go. I dunno how much I can tell you, though."

Suddenly, in Cressner's mind, he was back at PMI yet again- not as a war hero like in the welcome-home parade last year, but as a Cadet Sergeant Major, watching as Kate Butler joined the Long Blue Line and started to conquer the world.


	2. Chapter 2- Induction Day

**Chapter II- Induction Day**

* * *

Many pairs of cold, unfriendly eyes watched as the blonde, slender teenager called Katherine Butler arrived at the Pennsylvania Military Institute on August 15, 2004. Among them were the senior cadets, the Class of 2005, a group of young men already being hailed by the alumni as "the last real class" to graduate from PMI, because they would be the last to be entirely untainted by the touch of a girl in the Long Blue Line. One of those seniors was Cadet Lieutenant Colonel John Thorpe, 1st Battalion commander, and his senior NCO, Cadet Sergeant Major Alex Cressner. Together they stood off to the side as the freshmen arrived on Induction Day, shaking their heads and sneering at the wide-eyed, scared shitless high schoolers that were being given to them this year.

"What a pathetic display," Sergeant Major Cressner said as he strode out onto the quad of Echo Company late that afternoon, while the knobs of the entire battalion were being PT'd exactly thirty minutes after dinner. "How _dare_ you, call yourselves my knobs!" Cressner shouted, his voice rising in fury. He had stood and watched all day while the company cadres worked over the new cadets, and he'd had special interest in Echo from the start. That was where those two girls had been put… and that was where Alex Cressner would make sure his attention never wavered. If he let the Echo Company cadre run those two girls out, the PR disaster that would bring would have non-PMI men, _incomplete_ men, howling for blood- very possibly his. And if he did anything less than his utmost to break the will of these two girls, the alumni, the old PMI men, would have Alex Cressner's head instead.

"Damned if you do, damned if you don't," Cressner had muttered while smoking a cigarette and watching the day's events- and listening to the cadre's shouts and screams. Cressner, personally, could have given two shits about either one of these girls. Whether they lived or died meant nothing to him, let alone whether they made it and earned their place in the Long Blue Line. But if they were gonna make it, they were damned well going to have to fight for survival. Alex Cressner wasn't about to let them have the PMI band of gold without wanting to die for it first.

Crammed onto one barracks quad that was surprisingly small with four companies' worth of knobs there, over four dozen knobs stood frozen at attention as the battalion sergeant major declared his presence among them. He was tall, he was strong, and he was a mean son of a bitch. And he was everything these knobs wanted to be. His six stripes and star in the centre, his mirror-like shoes and gleaming brass, were the standard by which even the other cadres of his battalion followed. No knob could even imagine how his white dress shirt and gray pants were so perfectly ironed, how even his face seemed to have been polished and perfected and kept on a shelf every night. Alex Cressner walked up and down the rows of knobs in their blue PT uniforms, and already, beneath the raw terror in so many young eyes, he could see a few that wanted to be like him. Of those, a few had promise. Many did not; they merely imagined it.

"Down!" Cressner shouted into the silence, and the company cadres swarmed forward again, howling like dogs of war loosed not to destroy enemies of the nation- not yet, at least- but to destroy enemies of the Institute. To eliminate those unworthy of joining the Line.

Cressner continued his walk through the ranks as those very ranks disintegrated; the knobs could not possibly stay in formation with every one of them, it seemed, doing a different exercise at every moment. One luckless boy coughed as he was doing his hundredth pushup, vomiting too close to Cressner's shoes. Some of it splattered on the glass-like surface of the leather dress shoes, and Alex Cressner stared down at the skinny knob from Georgia like he was something out of a bad horror movie.

"Up!" Cressner howled. "Get up, scumbag! You just blew chunks all over my fucking shoes!"

The knob scrambled to his feet and stood rigidly at attention, doing all he could not to tremble before this demon of a boy. Cressner might not have been the biggest or even the strongest cadet at PMI, but he was easily one of the meanest. And right now, he was in top form.

"What's your excuse, mister?" Cressner shouted into the knob's face. "Pop off, boy! I want to hear your excuse."

The freshman was so scared, he almost threw up again when he tried to respond. Seeing him turn green, Cressner jumped back. "Shut up!" Cressner screamed, cutting off whatever response the knob would have given. Gesturing at his puke-spattered dress shoe, the 2nd battalion sergeant major yelled, "Clean my shoes, you! Clean your goddamn fucking vomit off my goddamn _fucking_ shoe!"

When the freshman stared around, clearly engaged in some sudden and utterly useless search for a towel, Cressner hastened his decision, shouting in the trembling boy's ear. "I don't care if you lick the vomit off my shoe with your fucking tongue, dumbass, but you better make a decision real soon!"

Then the knob did. Frantically, he pulled off his blue PT shirt, scrambled to kneel at the senior NCO's feet, and wiped both shoes clean. Cressner didn't even say anything; he just turned and walked away as four sophomore corporals descended upon the boy from Georgia, howling at him for being out of uniform.

After another minute or two of looking, Cressner found his mark- he found Kate Butler. The first girl- Cressner never did bother to learn her name- was already starting to crack. She was having trouble doing pushups, and a squad sergeant was helpfully shouting words of encouragement into her ear. But Butler was just knocking them out, a look of grim determination on her face. Cressner had seen her being yelled at by the senior NCO for Echo Company, First Sergeant Addison. But J.F. Addison wasn't the boss of this battalion. Alex Cressner was.

Noticing a pair of dress shoes stopping in front of her, Butler halted after finishing a pushup; she had counted a total of one hundred and fifty for this afternoon… so far.

"Nobody fuckin' told you to stop!" Cressner barked when she looked up, her eyes briefly meeting his. Then he crouched near her, yelling in Butler's ear as she continued the pushups. "And I swear to fuckin' God, knob, don't you ever fuckin' look at me with those girly eyes again!"

"Sir, yes, sir!" she shouted, but even there she managed to make a mistake.

"Sir!" Cressner barked. "I ain't no goddamn _sir_! You will address all senior non-commissioned officers of this Institute as "First Sergeant" or "Sergeant Major", and you will address me as Sergeant Major! Do you understand that?"

"Yes, Sergeant Major!" Butler yelled, resolutely continuing her pushups. Hopefully, this would be the last time today a pissed-off upperclassman yelled in her ear and held his gold ring in her face. Hopefully.

While Butler pushed, the howls of the cadre and the running in place, the flutter kicks, the jumping jacks and a million other exercises went on around her. Still shouting in her ear, the 2nd Battalion sergeant major said, "I think it's a hell of a fuckin' disgrace that they put your sorry ass in my fuckin' battalion. I think they must fucking hate me. What do you think of that, knob? Pop off!"

"I don't know, Sergeant Major!" Butler really couldn't think of what to say about that one. What the hell did she know of what the administration thought of anyone around here? Butler hadn't even been at PMI for a day.

"You don't fuckin _know_?" Cressner said, his words exaggerated in their sarcastic amazement. "You're a sorry fuckin' excuse for a cadet," Cressner said, shaking his head. "You think I'm gonna go easier on you 'cause you're a girl? Pop off!"

"No, Sergeant Major!"

"I think I might just send you home to daddy tonight, knob. Tonight! What do you say to that, Maggot Barbie? Pop off!"

Still counting out pushups, Butler shouted in a voice steadily going hoarse, "I'm not going home, Sergeant Major!"

"Up! Pop to and stand at attention, you!" a squad leader shouted at Butler, and suddenly, for at least a full thirty seconds both her ears were filled with screaming, screaming, screaming as two cadet sergeants stood to either side of her and just yelled. Finally, the two squad leaders found other victims, and Butler was alone in the middle of the quad, alone among some forty of her classmates, with nobody but the senior NCO of her battalion. Great company to have.

"I don't think I heard you quite right, knob. I think I must be deaf as well as insane. But you know what? I bet you five hundred bucks you quit this year, knob. I bet you five Ben Franklins you just wash out like the daddy's girl we all fuckin' know you are."

Then Alex Cressner stepped in front of Kate Butler again, measuring her with his cool gray eyes as she measured him with her steady, confident brown ones. Cressner paused a moment. He'd all but destroyed several boys with a little 'special attention' today, and this was only playtime. Hell Week hadn't even started yet. But this girl, Kate Butler? All of the cadre who'd gone out and tried to rattle her today, tried to make her cry and quit on day one, had come back and told their sergeant major she might not be one of the easy ones. Cressner understood their looks of astonishment now, considering he was hiding one himself.

When Butler didn't say anything in response, Cressner barked out, "You saying I'm _wrong_, maggot? Are you saying you _will_ be there to see my classmates and I graduate in June?"

Staring straight ahead, Butler called out, "Sergeant Major, this recruit will be here in June!"

"What's your name, scumbag? Pop off!" Cressner barked. This was a rhetorical question; with only two female cadets assigned to the whole Corps and both of them in 2nd Battalion, every cadre member from platoon to battalion level knew who they were. Almost the whole _Corps_ knew their names and it wasn't even the end of Day One.

"Sergeant Major, this recruit's name is Cadet Butler, K.M.!" Butler shouted. The exact format for such a response was something she had learned already. Some of her less fortunate classmates had already run afoul of upperclassmen for failing to do so, or worse, responding with their first names as most were in the habit of doing prior to coming here.

Finally, Cressner moved in close, the brim of his hat not even an inch from Butler's face. Staring straight at her, Cressner said, "Prove me wrong, Butler. Just you go ahead and try."

Then Cressner had vanished, replaced by a trio of howling sergeants. Eventually, he walked off the quad again, standing in the shade as the knobs of his battalion got the last of their "Induction Day" greeting from the cadre. Finally, at 1800, he blew his whistle, and instantly everything stopped. The cadres of the four companies shouted their knobs back into formation again, and they took their places off to the side of the quadrangle as the sergeant major once more reigned supreme. Walking up and down the rows of helpless, terrified plebes with their "stupid sacks" of essential issue items slung around their necks, Alex Cressner gave the knobs his much-rehearsed welcoming speech. He'd rehearsed over what to say, but not how to say it. The words he spoke this evening would be improvised, and much of it echoed things his cadre had said to him nearly four years ago.

"My name is Cadet Sergeant Major Alex Cressner. You are in 2nd Battalion, and have the tremendous misfortune of being my knobs. I am the highest-ranking cadet NCO in this battalion, and it is my job to uphold the standards, honour, and discipline that the Commandant expects from us all."

"From what I can see, gentlemen," Cressner paused to add "-_and_ ladies-" with a sneer, "I have been given a hopeless task. If it were up to me, maggots, had the Supreme Court not passed laws prohibiting the use of Sarin gas on college campuses, I would throw a couple of canisters of that shit out here, throw on a gas mask, and watch you all die, writhing like the maggots you really are."

Cressner gave those words the proper, fear-inducing pause they deserved, but only a moment's worth. Then he plunged ahead, his words relentless and incontrovertible as ever.

"I am absolutely insane, knobs. I'm psychotic, completely out of my fucking tree. And I want you to know that whatever fucking God you believe in has abandoned you. He has left you for good, dumbheads, and He must _really_ hate you, because before He walked out of your life, He handed your asses over to _me_. If you don't like this, maggots, if you think I'm a jerk, then call your momma tomorrow and go the fuck home. Get the _hell_ outta my school and stop disgracing the Long Blue Line with your putrid, stinking bodies."

"This is day one. This is not so much as the _start_ of the horror movie that is your lives now. This is one of those fuckin' popcorn ads before the movie comes on. This is not even the beginning, you dumb shits. You haven't even _started_ yet."

Cressner paused again; he was considering whether to add something else. He'd done plenty to scare the knobs today, and there was no way every one of them wasn't convinced he was the boss of their night and day now. Deciding to add some advice- that, really, mattered far more than the yelling and cursing did- Cressner added one thing more.

"It is your decision as to whether you survive your knob year or not, maggots. My cadre and I will do all in our power to break your will, to make you leave. We are not your friends. But you, not us, will decide if you quit or not. And just remember this, whenever you feel like you can't go on, or you start wanting to give up:

You're only finished if _you_ say you are. There's always a way to fight on."

By then Cressner had finished his walk through the ranks and stood at the head of the formation again, the company cadres all lined up behind him. "In three days, dumbheads, Hell Week begins. Welcome to PMI."


	3. Chapter 3- Paying the Line

**Chapter III-** **Paying the Line**

* * *

Much to the predictions of the cadre, Courtney Gaines quit before the end of Hell Week. An overjoyed team of sophomores packed her bags, and seniors were cheering wildly and breaking open bottles of champagne as her parents drove her away. But at the end of Hell Week, Kate Butler was still living in the barracks. She not only finished her first week, but somehow survived to the end of her first month.

Mystified, some of the cadets on battalion and even regimental staff began coming down to Echo Company to watch, to observe this would-be-hacker for themselves. Nobody among the upperclassmen could believe this female could have set the shortest time for the 2-mile run in Echo. She was even refusing the chance to go by gender-normed standards, and was slowly but steadily beginning to make higher PT scores than some of the boys. It made her the subject of a lot of hateful stares, and not just from upperclassmen.

Cressner saw to it, though, that any freshman who became too visibly envious of Butler's ability- or that of any fellow knob, for that matter- was the reason his company got an extra session of PT that night. One night, Cressner found himself _not_ thinking of Butler as he yelled at 2nd battalion, "The worst thing any of you can do is shit on your classmates! You're late to formation, you shit on your classmates! You fail room inspection, you shit on your classmates! Getting jealous because somebody's got better grades or a higher PT score? Guess what, fuckers? You just shit on your classmates!"

Two weeks after that, Butler stunned everyone in Echo Company by solidly outdoing a male knob- albeit easily the slowest and stupidest in the company- on the pullup bar. Cressner wasn't there- as a battalion NCO, he moved evenly throughout the companies and for the most part let their own cadres do the work- but he heard about it.

Then in October, right around Cressner's birthday, there was the first of many incidents with a certain member of the Class of 1982. Jebediah Buford, famous for being part of a group of chronically-underemployed alumni that the school tried very hard to ignore, showed up at a football game the week after Kate Butler had made the Color Guard. Cressner had watched from off to the side as Buford yelled furiously at her, then turned away as the Color Guard finally moved out.

Cressner stood aside along with half a dozen other cadets- that many at least- and simply did nothing while a civilian, albeit a graduate and therefore a PMI man, screamed at a girl simply for being one, and one who was wearing the uniform. Cressner defended all of his cadets against outside interference, knob or no, but an alumni was a hard thing to go up against. Even if a few were losers or drunks- or both- all of them seemed to have generals or admirals for classmates. Piss the wrong alumnus off and you'd have the Commandant tearing you a new one in no time. So while a cadet from his battalion got racked by a man who had no real business doing it, Alex Cressner just stood there. He didn't know what else to do.

Suddenly, though, as he gazed between the departing Color Guard and the angry man in the brown jacket, the alumni had taken notice of him, too. Reading the elaborate black stripes on the arms of Cressner's dress grays, the man barked, "You! Is that fuckin' bitch in your battalion?"

Cressner stood at ease, intent on being polite but eyeing the man warily. "Yes, sir. I'm her battalion senior NCO."

"Well, a hell of a fuckin' senior-fuckin-NCO _you_ are, kid!" The man yelled, a gust of whiskey-stained breath blowing into Cressner's face. The man shook his head, mildly drunk- so far- and quite furious. "So _this_ is what it's coming to. Holy _shit_. Even the fucking sergeants major are fucking pussies these days. Can't even run out a goddamn _girl_."

The man proceeded to curse at Cressner some more, ignoring his attempts at responses, until finally the Color Guard presented arms and the national anthem was played. Afterwards, the man yelled at Cressner some more, seeming intent on giving this boy the ass-chewing he'd been unable to give to the girl he so hated for wearing the cadet uniform. Again, just like when he'd been yelling at Butler, nobody did a thing about it. None of them knew what to do. Once the man finally left, growling to Cressner that he wasn't worthy of wearing the ring any more than "that bitch", Cressner walked off behind the stands and chain-smoked for the rest of the game. He wanted punch something, but pumping nicotine into his system was the next best thing. Cressner was so mad his hands shook while he lit each cigarette, but he held steady and drove on. There was nothing else to do.

After the game, though, as the Color Guard marched back to the field house and began putting away their gear, Cressner made his way down to the Color Guard's storage room. "Room, at ease!" one of the other knobs on the team shouted, and instantly everyone stood at parade rest. "As you were, Color Guard," Cressner said. "Good work out there today." Then, turning to Kate Butler, Cressner said, "Cadet Butler, report to my room at 1700 tonight. That is an order, not a request, and if you can't figure out where my room is, try harder."

Cressner was already heading back out of the room when Butler barked, "Yes, Sergeant Major!"

At precisely 1700, the sound of somebody marching swiftly down the 2nd Battalion Staff hallway halted outside the Sergeant Major's door. Two knocks, followed by a girl's voice speaking, "Cadet Recruit Butler, reporting as ordered, Sergeant Major!"

"Drive in that goddamn door, then, Recruit!" Cressner shouted back.

Cressner was sitting behind his desk when Butler entered. He had his watch, an obscenely expensive Rolex with a crimson gold band, off his wrist and was polishing the band and dial with a small cloth. Looking up at Butler, who was standing at parade rest in her dress grays, Cressner said in a quieter voice, "At ease, Recruit Butler. Do you know why you're here?"

Shifting her stance to be slightly more relaxed, Butler shook her head. "No, Sergeant Major."

"That guy who yelled at you today. You know he went here, right?"

The surprise was in her expression, as well as the tone of her words. "No, Sergeant Major."

Cressner looked at her evenly, meeting Butler's eyes without difficulty. "Well, he did. And around here an alumni is the next best thing to being God. It's better than being a senior, even, because an alumni has his diploma along with his ring. He's done his time for the Line, and that's all that matters."

"Did you know I saw what happened today, Recruit Butler?"

She shook her head again. "No, Sergeant Major."

"All right," Cressner said. "Well, I did. And I didn't do a thing about it. You know why?"

Butler nodded this time, a quick, curt movement of understanding and acknowledgement. "Yes, Sergeant Major."

Cressner just stared at her in disbelief. He'd expected indignant anger, maybe even fury at discovering her senior NCO had watched her get harassed by a civilian, whoever that civilian was, and do not a damned thing about it. How the hell could she know why Cressner had done, or rather not done, that?

"Speak freely, Butler."

Butler looked at him then, her eyes calm and steady, and her voice even. "You said it yourself, Sergeant Major. Being an alumni at this place is as good as being God. You did nothing because that's all you could do."

In many ways, that was true, and Cressner was stunned at how well Butler understood. But she was still a knob, and he wasn't going to give her any points easily. Besides, as far as Cressner was concerned, it wasn't quite that simple. He shook his head. "I did nothing today because I'm a fuckin' coward, Butler. I'd gut like a _fish_ any civilian who tried pushing around one of my boys. But first time that happens and it's a _girl_? I just shut down. I didn't know _what_ the hell to do. And you just stood there and took it. You held your ground and took it like a cadet. Like a soldier."

"Sometimes the greatest act of courage is not in fighting, but in sticking out. The greatest true act of courage is refusing to quit." Cressner spoke those words calmly and quietly, in a conversational tone few- if any- other knobs had heard him use since their arrival at PMI.

Butler stared at the senior NCO for her battalion with the flat, blank expression all knobs learned to use to conceal their true thoughts or emotions from superiors, but her eyes indicated how surprised she was, just a little bit giving away how stunning it was to hear any kind of praise from a high-ranking senior cadet.

Finally, after letting his words sink in a few moments, Cressner put down the watch. He stared Butler right in the eyes. "I called you up here to see if you wanted me to do anything next time, Butler. That guy's at a lot of football games. You want me to get in the way next time he does something? It might mean my ass if he does, but you're in _my_ fuckin' battalion and so far you've paid your dues to the Long Blue Line. So _far_. And _nobody_ runs you out of here but me and my staff. It's _our_ job, not some guy who went here twenty years ago. You want me to do something next time?"

She only considered this for just a moment before replying, "No, Sergeant Major."

Cressner stared at Butler in disbelief. "What?"

Calm and rational, she almost shrugged. "If he comes back, he comes back. I don't need anybody to fight my battles for me."

"But this _isn't_ a battle you have to _fight_, Butler," Cressner insisted. "This guy is giving you shit that's not even part of the system."

She just looked at him then and said, "I've been getting hate mail ever since I was accepted, Sergeant Major. Seems like it's part of the system for _me_. I'm the first."

Finally, Cressner just sighed, staring down at his hands. "All right," he said quietly. "So fuckin' be it." Looking back up at Butler, he said, "You know what you're in for, right? This guy might be coming back the whole goddamn rest of the season."

"I know, Sergeant Major. I'll just have to handle it."

Cressner shook his head. "You must have got dropped on your head to want to come here like this. But you might make it. You just might." Finally, he flipped a hand at the door. "Get the hell out."

She responded to that quickly and calmly, not at all offended by what Cressner had said. With a short, professional "Yes, Sergeant Major" she was out the door, closed it, and was walking back down the hall. Cressner just couldn't believe what he'd just heard. This girl had to be fucking nuts. She was pretty, too- all of the upperclassmen had agreed on that when they'd seen her in civvies, before she volunteered to take a male-type 'knob' haircut. It was just one more reason why Butler had no reason to be here. She could have gone to a good civilian college like UVA and had all the parties she wanted; guys would have been fighting to step out on Friday nights with her. Instead she went to PMI, and it just made no goddamn sense.

Cressner's warning proved to be prophecy; that son of a bitch had come back every football game for the rest of the season, and he'd harassed Butler the same way each time. He gave ass-chewings to Cressner, too, whenever he happened to see the male cadet. But Cressner, used to taking ass-chewings as well as giving them out, took them whenever they came. They didn't, not too often, once Cressner stopped hanging around close to the Color Guard when they were getting ready to march out for a game. He always had eyes on that area, though, and had somebody on site to make sure things didn't get too rough. But while the man never got violent- though he probably wanted to- he did give Kate Butler holy old hell every time he saw her after that first game in October.

Throughout the whole rest of the football season, never once did Kate Butler file any complaints with her cadre or the Commandant's Office, and never once did she fall out of formation with the Color Guard. By the time the last game ended with PMI's final defeat of the season, more than a couple upperclassmen were finally talking of the only female in the Corps with grudging respect. Kate Butler was starting to earn her place in the Corps, however much the upperclassmen hated to admit it. Some were starting to wonder if she was gonna make it to Recognition Day, after all. Alex Cressner wasn't the only one with a bet placed on the matter before long. After the knobs had survived into the start of their third month at PMI and Kate Butler still remained, Alex Cressner started wondering if he shouldn't switch his bet the other way. But he'd made his choice and told Butler of it- if she made it to June she'd get the five hundred dollars. That was something Cressner resolved he would do… but only if Kate Butler earned it.


	4. Chapter 4- Last Knob Down

**Chapter IV- Last Knob Down**

* * *

It was November 15, 2004. The Corps had just five days left until they left for Thanksgiving break, and the knobs knew as well as the upperclassmen that they'd all but made it to Recognition Day at the end of the semester. The commander and sergeant major of each battalion had been taking recommendations from company cadre for the PMI Distinction Medal, to be awarded to one knob from each of PMI's four battalions. Today, though, the recommendations were all turned in and the decisions made. Cadet Sergeant Major Cressner had seen the recommendation for each company and approved just one. His choice would have stunned some, angered others. But that was okay, because it was _his_ battalion. Anybody outside of 2nd Battalion could say what they wanted; how Alex Cressner ran his unit was nobody's goddamned business.

Serving as senior NCO for the first battalion in the Corps to ever contain a female cadet had taught Alex Cressner a lot about what he truly thought of honor and fairness. Cressner couldn't have given two shits about Kate Butler personally when she walked in, and he still didn't much care now. And while he was good at hiding it- usually- Cressner was as mad as anyone that the Supreme Court had banged down PMI's doors and forced them to surrender the court battles and admit women at last.

But while that anger was hardly a rare thing in the Corps or among the alumni, in Alex Cressner the Institute had hit upon something special. The Pennsylvania Military Institute had unwittingly created somebody who would rather catch all kinds of hell from a PMI graduate, take all kinds of shit from rival classmates who would jeer at him for failing to run out a girl- a young man who would do anything but violate the code he'd come up with when he first gained rank as a sophomore corporal.

And that code contained just one simple rule: _Everyone gets an even break_. Alex Cressner would never step up to save a strong knob because they didn't need it, and he would never act to help a weak knob, because they didn't deserve it. But everybody got an even break, a fair shot at beating the system. No more or less; just a fair chance.

But that was only when the knob system was within its prescribed limits. If it couldn't be done on the parade ground or on the quad, it wasn't to be done at all. Cressner permitted no vigilante justice, no secret actions in the dead of night to eliminate the one girl in the Corps. If it was this late in the year and all the efforts of a furious, unmerciful cadre had failed to run her out, then odds were Kate Butler was gonna make it. Without even realizing it, Alex Cressner had tied his own reputation to the success or failure of the 'female experiment' of this year. By doing so much to ensure Kate Butler and Courtney Gaines had been treated like any other knobs, he had made himself a target in the eyes of some, and a source of admiration for others. Alex Cressner was greatly respected by some for giving Kate Butler a fair chance… but others wanted to see her fail so Alex himself would also be embarrassed. Some wanted Butler to fail so they could see Alex Cressner fail, too.

But on the last night anyone ever saw Kate Butler, when Alex Cressner stood before each company and explained the significance of the PMI Distinction Medal- something Cressner himself had earned as a knob in E Company- neither of those things looked likely to happen.

Standing before the knobs grouped on one side of the aisle- the sophomores, juniors and seniors were gathered on the other side- Cressner stood alongside the company commander, battalion commander, and company first sergeant. The NCO's were most responsible for overseeing the training of the knobs, and so this was mostly their night to talk on. First Sergeant Addison would be the one presenting the medal, but as senior NCO of the whole battalion, Cressner got to talk first.

Tonight, speaking in a calm, steady voice devoid of hostility or menace, Alex Cressner looked out over the thirty-odd knobs still there and felt real pride in them for the first time. They hadn't been recognized yet- not yet- but they were damned close. When the night came to present a medal for the most high-speed knob in second battalion, you knew the end was close. The knobs of this year were just weeks away from joining the Long Blue Line. They'd damn near made it.

"At ease, dumbheads!" Cressner said. "The PMI Distinction Medal is presented at this time of the year; just one goes to a single knob in each of the four battalions in the Corps of Cadets.

"It is presented for excellence in academics, physical fitness, and demonstrated leadership as a new member of the PMI Corps of Cadets. This medal is not just for what the recipient has done so far; it represents the confidence of the 2nd Battalion upperclassmen that this individual has demonstrated great potential to grow in these areas in the future."

Then Cressner turned to First Sergeant Addison, stepping off to the side. "You got it, First Sergeant."

"Thank you, Sergeant Major," Addison said, then addressed the knobs of Echo Company.

"As First Sergeant of Echo Company, I would like to present the PMI Distinction Medal to a Fourth-Class Cadet who has shown outstanding merit."

A properly dramatic, suspense-inducing pause; anyone looking out over the eager, anxious faces of those thirty-odd knobs could tell they were all hoping the upperclassmen had picked them.

Then Addison barked, "Cadet Butler! Front and center!"

Butler smartly turned and marched up to the front of the chapel, facing the first sergeant before the rest of her classmates. "First Sergeant."

"Cadet Butler, you have displayed excellent qualities in both academics, and physical training." Addison duly took the medal as it was handed to him by Cressner, and pinned it on Butler's dress uniform. Addison shook her hand.

"Thank you, First Sergeant," she said.

"Do you have anything to say?" Addison asked.

A pause; Butler seemed unsure of what to make of this. She certainly hadn't planned anything beforehand. Finally, though, she nodded. "Yes, First Sergeant."

"Listen up, knobs!" Addison barked. "Your classmate has something to say." Even the upperclassmen, none of whom had ever seen a girl wear the PMI cadet uniform before, watched and listened with interest as Kate Butler faced her classmates and began to speak.

"On Induction Day, Sergeant Major Cressner told all of us that we each decide whether we make it here or not. That 'You're only finished when you say you are. There's always a way to fight on.'

"What we attain too cheap, we esteem too lightly. Tis dearness only that gives everything it's value. I didn't understand why First Sergeant Addison was quoting Thomas Paine our first day here, or why Sergeant Major Cressner was quoting his father. But I do now. We might not be fighting the American Revolution like he was; neither are we fighting in Vietnam, like Admiral Cressner did. But we're still fighting. Fighting for the strength to keep at it; fighting for the respect of our company; fighting for the respect of our families… I hope to earn them all someday."

Butler, unknown to even the upperclassmen, spoke those last words as she spotted her father in the chapel, among some parents at the very back of the crowd. He had watched the whole while, seeming to almost want to say something himself. But when Addison called the company to attention, he just turned and walked away.

Cressner had needed to fight to conceal a startled expression when Kate Butler had revealed he'd been quoting his father; only someone truly well-versed in Institute history would know Admiral Mark Cressner had said that after becoming the first man to escape from North Vietnam on his own, having done so on foot. Cressner wondered what thoughts had gone through Butler's head when she read the words engraved at the base of Admiral Cressner's statue near the chapel. Her insightfulness in considering Cressner's words, in tracing them back to the source, impressed Alex Cressner. November 15th was the first time Cressner felt real respect for Kate Butler, female or no.

November 15th had been a Friday; nearly everyone, even the knobs, had gone off post for the night and, indeed, most of the weekend. But two knobs had stayed in Echo Company- the stupidest knob, Ryan-somebody, and Kate Butler. Alex Cressner had headed back home to Maryland, and grouping up with some friends had one of the wildest weekends he'd known in months. When he returned, though, Kate Butler was gone. Her room was cleared out, and her ID card had been swiped as she left the front gate late Friday night. But nobody knew where she'd been going, or where she ultimately went. After a while, once all the upperclassmen heard about it and word got around in the Corps, everybody figured Kate Butler had cracked after all. Instead of stepping up like a man and telling her cadre she couldn't pack the gear, she'd ducked out and snuck away, vanishing into the night rather than face the shame of her cowardice.

Alex Cressner was a Cadet Sergeant Major, and one of the meanest fighters at PMI. Those who thought it safe to mention how badly Butler's actions embarrassed the cadre of 2nd Battalion and Echo Company soon discovered it was best not to say anything to Alex Cressner. After a time, though, the insults and mockery faded as the upperclassmen found other things to do, and it wasn't long before Alex Cressner joined in with the rest of his class in neither knowing or caring where Kate Butler had gone. By the time he graduated in June, five crisp 100-dollar bills in his pocket just for the occasion, Cressner didn't care a damn in the world about Kate Butler. What was there to tell? She'd run out on her classmates and made every upperclassman who'd thought she had potential look like a goddamn idiot. She shat not just on her classmates, but on everybody. All because she couldn't pack the gear.


	5. Chapter 5- A Different Story

**Chapter V- A Different Story**

* * *

"She made every upperclassman who ever believed in her look like an idiot, Detective Rush," Lieutenant Cressner said, absent-mindedly brushing at the Silver Star ribbon on his khaki uniform. They were sitting in an interview room the MP's at Norfolk Naval Base had been generous enough to loan for a couple of hours. Cressner had gone here willingly; in fact, it had been his idea. His nervousness went away after he'd talked long enough, but the look of guilt only seemed to increase. He was bitter, Rush realised, but not for anything like the reason so many PMI men were. Alex Cressner was bitter because he'd tried so hard to make the 'female experiment' at PMI work, and he'd gotten nothing but shit for it. He'd tried to give Kate Butler a chance to make it and earn her place in the Long Blue Line, and she'd done nothing but let him down.

"Guess we know better now, huh?" Cressner said. He had talked for over an hour and a half now; his throat was dry and he was tired. But he'd seen the whole dossier on Kate Butler now; he was completely convinced she was dead. For three years, she'd been dead while the Class of 2005 graduated, fought in a war, and all but erased the failure of Kate Butler from their minds. Only now, with the rumours coming out of Philadelphia and the talk of a murder investigation, did the dissidents in the Corps from years ago start wondering again. Only now were they thinking twice, asking if it really had been _Butler_ who'd failed in the end, and not them.

Finally, Detective Rush decided she'd heard all she needed to from the Navy officer. His involvement in the case, even according to other witnesses and staff at the school, was minimal. He'd been a senior cadet in Kate Butler's chain of command, but no more. Alex Cressner had conducted himself as a true professional, never once abusing his position or attempting to take advantage of Kate Butler. It just wasn't something he'd ever considered. Still, he had his guesses over who the murderer might have been, quietly giving a few names- including the name of one staff member, a major who had never liked him again after Cressner became so adamant about giving even Kate Butler a fair chance.

As he got up to leave, taking his tan officer's hat with him, Alex Cressner stopped, as if remembering something. He turned to Detective Rush. "She never quit, did she?"

"No," Lilly Rush said. "Somebody killed her and tried to make it look that way."

"Yeah." Cressner stared at the floor, unsure of what to think now. After a minute of standing silent, he said quietly, "You know, Kate Butler always told us upperclassmen- those few who gave enough of a shit to ask like I did- that she wanted to fight her own battles. She never asked to be treated any different, and some of us really started respecting her for that once we saw she was serious. But nobody can fight all their battles alone, always."

"It's pretty sad that those few of us who wanted to see a girl get a fair chance at PMI…"

Cressner had to pause; he had difficulty going on. This was all too much. To have believed one thing for so many years, to have been so sure you'd backed a quitter and to find out that was all absolutely wrong was quite a shock. It had Cressner's mind spinning in so many directions; so many old memories, old judgments and opinions, had to be dug up and revised. Cressner, shocked and, yes, saddened at the news of Kate Butler's death, took a moment before continuing, making his very last remark in his interview with Detective Lilly Rush.

"Well, it's just pretty sad that we let her down the one time she really did need our help."

Two months later, as the news of Kate Butler's murder- and the dismissal of Major Moe Kitchener and Cadet Ryan Stewart continued to circulate around the nation, a young man in a plain gray suit got out of a burgundy 2001 Park Avenue, parked along the curb of a certain suburban street in New England. The young man held an envelope in his hand- unmarked, it was by all appearances a perfectly normal letter envelope. But something about it must have been unusual, because the tall, lean young man with the sandy-blonde hair and gray eyes seemed nervous as he got out of the car and walked up to the mailbox in front of one specific house.

He opened the mailbox, placed the letter inside, then got back in the Buick and drove off without ever knocking on the door or even checking to see if anyone was home. But he knew he'd got the address right. He'd verified it with more than one source before making the trip.

Late that afternoon, Mrs. Charlotte Butler noticed the blank envelope while looking through the day's mail after bringing it inside. She opened the envelope and began to read- soon Mrs. Butler had to sit down. The strength in her knees seemed to fail her, and suddenly she could barely stand. When Hank Butler got home an hour later, she quietly showed him the envelope, handing him the letter and the two items inside. Taking a moment to brace himself, Hank Butler unfolded the envelope and began to read.

_Dear Mr. and Mrs. Butler,_

_I am writing on behalf of a small number of members of the Pennsylvania Military Institute Class of 2005, of which I am a member. We had for the past three years been solidly under the assumption that your daughter had gone AWOL from the Institute late in her first semester, unable to cope with the pressures of being a freshman. We had assumed that she had quit; to put it in military terminology, that she had been "unable to hack it". It may surprise you, sir and ma'am, that there were a few of us in the Class of 2005 who observed the arrival of your daughter at the Institute with at least a tolerant eye. A few among the Corps wanted to see the negative publicity of the school's long-standing battle with the courts end, and for young women as well as young men to be given a fair chance at joining the Long Blue Line at PMI._

_I would like to note, once again on behalf of myself and a select few of my classmates, that much was done, at least by us, to ensure your daughter was given a fair chance at making it at the Institute. I would also like to note that she impressed many of us in the senior class with her confidence, ability, courage, and humility. She put on no airs over her unavoidable special status, and asked for no special treatment. Her receiving the PMI Distinction Medal, being chosen out of over one hundred other knobs in 2__nd__ Battalion, was no accident. Your daughter earned that medal, Mr. and Mrs. Butler, and she gained the respect of her classmates and cadre in doing so._

_When we learned of your daughter's disappearance, those members in the senior class who could made inquiries, but it was soon assumed that she had run away over the weekend, while nearly the whole Corps had gone home or off post. Her disappearance embarrassed those of us who had supported her severely. We placed our reputations as PMI men on the line merely by giving your daughter a fair chance at earning the gold ring we already wore. A PMI man, in the eyes of countless hundreds of graduates, must always remain such. A few "degenerate losers" in the Class of 2005 disagreed. A few of us have come to believe that wearing the ring has nothing to do with race, color, creed or even gender, and that truly being a PMI man means rising above those petty prejudices. The failure of Kate Butler, for that is how the Corps perceived it, was received with joy by many members of the PMI family, who were glad to see the first female cadets fail completely._

_There were a few of us, though, who took no joy in Kate Butler's abrupt departure from school. We were embarrassed and angry- at ourselves for ever stepping up and supporting Kate Butler, and at her for letting us down. What a shock it was for us to learn that it was we who had failed instead._

_Neither I nor my classmates can make any excuse for our failure to prevent your daughter's murder. Whatever role you believe we played in her death, even it was simply not knowing and not being in a place to act, it is blame we accept readily. _

_Many of us in the Class of 2005 have had men die under our commands in the recent war with Russia, as well as the ongoing conflicts in Iraq and Afghanistan._

_But Kate Butler was the first, and we lost her during peacetime. There is no excuse for that failure, and we do not deny that. The ones who agreed this letter should be sent would simply like you to know that we are sorry. We respected Kate immensely for insisting on fighting her battles alone, and never relying on the cadre or her classmates to protect her. Never could we have imagined that we would so completely fail to be there for Kate the one time she needed us most._

_Kate Butler was the first woman ever to walk into PMI, and she did a lot to earn the respect of her cadre and classmates. We all knew, just from the way she conducted herself, what a fine family she came from. She acted with courage and honor throughout her brief time as a cadet, and you have every reason to be proud of her._

_Here I would like to make a personal note. A number of my classmates gave me permission to write on their behalf, hence you are reading this now. But I have a certain footnote to add to this story, another piece to add to the puzzle of your daughter's tragically short life and career as a PMI cadet. On Induction Day, I bet Kate five hundred dollars she wouldn't see the Class of 2005 graduate in June. It turns out she won that bet after all._

_I have enclosed a medal I received in the late war. I have lost many hours of sleep thinking about what I did to earn it, and I am now fully convinced that Kate, too, could have earned it, had she only been given the chance. In a sense, though, she was, and she did. My classmates and I know nothing we can say will ever replace Kate, and the wonderful place she so clearly held in your lives. Just remember more than a few of us at the Institute now recognize her for what she was- one of the bravest people we ever knew._

_A Few Good Cadets_

Hank Butler looked the letter over; the handwriting was methodical and precise, clearly written by someone who was taking pains to ensure it would be properly legible. And, perhaps, hard to compare to the author's normal handwriting in case the Butler's response to the letter was the opposite of favourable. Hank was briefly irritated at the refusal of these young men to disclose their names or identities; he was still furious at the Echo Company cadre from 2005 for failing to do their jobs and protect his daughter. But then, he also understood. These young men had taken a risk in having this letter written, and Hank knew there were enough arguments among a minority-versus-majority division of the alumni over the admission of women and Kate Butler's murder to be paramount to civil war. Those few alumni who openly supported the admission of women, even after Kate's death, were furiously opposed by countless members of the old guard. Yes, the more Hank Butler considered it, the more the anonymous nature of the letter made sense.

Hank didn't know what to make of the two other items his wife had found in the envelope. Part of him was furious, incensed beyond words that members of the class that had been most responsible for failing to protect Kate would dare intrude on the family's grief. But Hank felt less anger when he read the letter over a second time, reading carefully these words that praised his daughter so highly. And he looked again at the items included in the envelope, just as the letter said.

There were five one hundred dollar bills and a Silver Star.


End file.
